Listed
by That Band Kid
Summary: A television show has invaded the Smash Mansion, which prompts the Smashers to re-create the action at home. But some people take it a little too far...


**Alright, everybody! I wanted to take a shot at writing an actual story that I'll edit and such. Usual disclaimers apply; I'm too poor to own anything, it all belongs to Nintendo and Sega and such. And here we go!**

It was a clear, starry, perfect night at the Smash Mansion. The crickets were chirping, shooting stars shot across the sky, and there wasn't a cloud in sight. Of course, nobody in the mansion was out enjoying it. They were all inside, glued to televisions as if their lives depended on it.

See, a new TV show had grabbed the attention of many smashers. It was called _Listed_. Basically put, the show revolved around the lives of nearly 30 ex-soldiers who lived together on an isolated island. In every episode, the host of the show made several 'lists' – teams of people, often in random order. The teams would live together and sabotage the others. The trick was that the lists could change at any time, and so allegiances were constantly changing, making the show actually quite fun to watch. Every fighter had their favorite characters on the show. Every Wednesday night at 7 PM, the entire Mansion shut down and the Smashers gathered to watch the drama.

The show was mostly in good fun, but sometimes it got violent. There was one particularly gruesome episode where one of the contestants tried to stick the head of another unconscious man on a metal spike. Thankfully, he didn't kill the guy, but there was a fair amount of blood. That episode was the favorite of some of the Smashers. They began to take hints from the fighting and sabotage used in the show. After all, they fought each other for a living, just like in _Listed_. One would be stupid not to learn from the show. Right?

Fox hated to admit it, but he was as addicted to the show as anyone else. Sometimes, when he was training, he would imagine himself as his favorite character on the show, ducking and dodging and throwing punches like he'd seen the soldiers do. Falco found it amusing. "Fox, you've been doing this crap for your entire life. Why are you trying to copy some losers on TV?" he asked the vulpine one day after an evening training session.

"You do it too," Fox bit back.

"Oh yeah? What makes you think that?"

"You spent 25 minutes practicing overhead tosses. You never do that. But that guy on _Listed_, the short guy…"

"Alright, fine. You got me. Happy? It looked like a good idea, and my fighting techniques are a little rusty. I gotta sharpen up, that's all."

Fox chuckled and let the matter rest. Tired and ready to turn in for the night, he navigated the dark halls and made his way into the male wing of dormitories. Just as he stood in front of his door and attempted to unlock it, something moved in his peripheral vision that he didn't like. His instincts took over, and he moved quickly to the side as the object launched itself in his general direction. Fox picked up the object and pressed it up against the wall. "What's the big idea?" he growled at the object.

The object turned out to be Popo, the blue-clad Ice Climber, and the bane of Falco's existence. "Ow! Let go of me, Fox!"

"What are you doing trying to attack me, little one? I'm not Falco. And if I was, you'd be dead right now."

"Red told me to do it!"

"And why would Red do that?"

"The List! Duh!"

Fox let go of the boy, and he fell to the ground. "What list?"

"The List! It's just like the TV show! You haven't seen it?"

Something told the mercenary that this was not something he wanted to get into; but if it already involved him, he probably needed to ask about it. "No, I haven't."

"It's been sent to everyone's computer! I'll let you go free this one time 'cause you didn't know about it. I'm just nice like that," the boy squealed.

Fox understood why this little kid bothered Falco so much. "Right… thanks, half-pint. I'm gonna go look at it."

The boy wasn't lying; a message was left in his e-mail inbox that contained a document with the following lists:

TEAM A: Bowser, Ganondorf, Mario, Peach, T. Link, Diddy K., Kirby, Olimar, Pikachu, Zelda

TEAM B: Falco, Ike, Mewtwo, Pit, Y. Link, Fox, Lucario, Ness, Roy, Yoshi

TEAM C: C. Falcon, Jigglypuff, Luigi, Meta K., Samus, Donkey K., Link, Marth, R.O.B., Snake

TEAM D: Dr. Mario, K. Dedede, Mr. G&W, Red, Wario, Nana/Popo, Lucas, Pichu, Sonic, Wolf

There were no other instructions. No rules, no explanations, _nothing_. Fox was puzzled by the message. Ordinarily, he would have ignored the silly little gesture, but the impromptu attack from Popo forced him to pay attention.

Falco stumbled into the room in a foul mood. "Okay, the scrappy blue hedgehog just tried to jump me."

"Tried?"

"Oh, I might have accidently clocked him."

"I'm proud of you, son," Fox grinned. "Come look at this, it might explain something."

Falco glanced over the list and scoffed. "Who made this?"

"Dunno. There was no sender, it was… anonymous. I'm a little concerned about this."

"Oh yeah? I'm kind of excited. You know what this is, right Foxy?"

"Some bimbo in this mansion created a word document with our names on it."

"It's an excuse to gang up on these losers when they don't expect it!"

"We fight each other for a living! Why would we need to take it to the hallways?"

"I don't think it'll be that violent. This'll die out, Fox, don't worry. Have some fun. Maybe we ought to assemble our team."

Fox scanned the list and looked over his team again; it was pretty solid, no real weaklings but nobody that will try to take total charge. _Guess that's up to Falco and I,_ Fox thought. _Wait. What am I saying?_ "I don't think I wanna play this game, Falco. This stuff never has a happy ending."

"Let's just see when everyone else thinks," Falco reasoned. "Come on, Fox, play along! How bad can it be? I know you have that spirit in you; you and I will kick ass at this game!"

Fox sighed. "Fine, I'll play."

"You don't look like yourself. Did you get jumped too?"

"Yeah; it was that twerpy ice climber that you hate so much."

Falco grimaced, cracking the bones in his neck. "Now it's personal. It's on. It is _so _on."


End file.
